Soap
by BarbaraChilde
Summary: Smutty spoiler based one-shot. A bit self indulgent but I thought I may as well share.


**I promise right now I'm working on the next chapter of The OATPC but I'm in a bit of a tangle and am not happy, so I thought I'd distract you with a smutty one shot I wrote a little while ago for a prompt over at LJ. Based on a spoiler. I Hope you enjoy. **

Blair flicked her lamp off in a hurry when she heard steps on the landing. She wasn't listening for his return but it would never do for him to think she was.

His voice came muffled through the walls, low chuckle rumbling. He wasn't alone. Her stomach clenched at the thought he would bring someone home. To her house, to her spare bed; she be damned before she'd listen to some whore's moan from the next room. She'd had enough of that living with Serena. She pulled herself from her covers before it could go further, violently tugging open her door to confront them.

"Humphrey, who do you think you are, bringing..." The words died on her lips. He leant against his door, drunkish, disheveled, hair falling unruly on his brow, phone pressed to his ear.

He looked up at her, but didn't break off the rambling farewell he was giving the unlucky person on the end of the line.

"Good evening to you too, Waldorf. You were saying?" Eyes traveling up her bare legs to rest on the brief hemline of her negligee.

She sniffed, guarding herself against the sense of relief he was alone. "Some of us need our rest. I'd appreciate it if you remembered that when you get home at whatever ungodly hour you call this."

"It's 10 o'clock, Blair, and why do you..." She could see the flicker of response in his eyes and caught her breath, anticipating a verbal war sparking between them. But then he sighed, "...no...whatever. Sorry to have disturbed you. Goodnight."

He opened his door, shutting it firmly behind him as he turned away, leaving her standing awkwardly, tugging at the hem of her gown. Summarily dismissed. It gave her a pang of irritation, but she consoled herself with the thought of how she'd have Dorota throw him out, as soon as she arrived in the morning.

She followed suit, retreating to her bed and snuggling back into the abandoned warmth, trying to expel him from her mind.

He creaked around his room as she tossed between her sheets. The pad of his feet in the bathroom. Burying her head under her pillow to block out the sound of the shower hitting the tiles. If she strained her ears, she was convinced she could hear the unzip of his trousers and soft fall of his clothes to the floor. They had better not be there when she arose the following morning. Clenching her eyes against the vision of him standing beneath the water spray. But the image wouldn't fade. Instead it made her remember. How he hated her scented body wash and had had the gall to bring one of his own bars of cheap soap, even though she told him it made her skin dry just looking at it. It had still remained in her shower, for some inexplicable reason, when she returned from Europe after the summer.

But his skin had been soft. Softer than the pampered bodies she had known before. His velvet dark shadows had surprised her. He would be lathering himself up, thorough and systematic. It would be almost mesmerizing, watching his hands meticulously work over his arms and chest, his neck and down his lean flanks, dipping between his muscled thighs. The lather foaming in the dark curls there as he soaped his penis hanging heavy in the scalding hot water. Hardening under her gaze, he would look up, coyly almost, questioning. "You're staring."

"Stop putting on such a show then." He would continue, meeting her eyes as his fingers slid over his skin. "So, do you need help with that?"

He would smile, an invitation on his parted lips and she would close the small gap between them. Leaning into her mouth but she wouldn't be in the mood for langourous kisses. She wanted something more substantial. Tonguing her way down his chest as his hands gripped her shoulders in encouragement. Spreading his thighs with persistent fingers so she could cup him to her mouth, her lips parting to engulf him in one lush motion. The pressure of the water would needle into her skin, as unrelenting as the hot pulse of desire threading through her loins.

His jaw would drop forward as he watched her, a look half wonder, all desire. Eyes dark, intent on her lips. The water cascading over her head adding to her fervour; the hot rivulets running into her mouth, his musky, soapy taste, the delicate slip of his skin against her tongue. When he would plunge his hands into her sodden hair, the pads of his palms pressing against her ears, she would trace her fingers down her belly into the welcoming heat between her legs. Parting slick lips to find the eager nub. Rubbing circles in time to the rhythmic descent of her lips. The roll of his hips growing erratic as she moaned against him, the slide of his cock pressing against the roof of her mouth.

She would look up as her own heat uncoiled. His eyes distant with pleasure and a grimace twisting her name on his lips. His breath sharp as she grazed him with her teeth, jerking convulsively as his comings covered her tongue. And then she would follow, gripping his hip with shaky fingers to stay upright, leaning her head into his stomach and feeling the water pounding hot against her back, feeding back into the shuddering glow that overwhelmed her.

"Blair?" Dan's disembodied voice came through the door. Her fingers stilled immediately. "Blair, are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Her words were slow, slurred. She swallowed against dry lips, trying to bring some purpose to her tone, "...fine. I was fast asleep until your inconsiderate racket woke me...again."

"I heard a strange noise. Are you sure you're ok?"

Her limbs still quivered as she withdrew her hand, leaving a sticky trail against her stomach. "A bad dream, that's all, but it wasn't half as bad as the nightmare you just woke me up to."


End file.
